


Bitter Business

by rilina



Category: Bleach
Genre: Community: 31_days, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-20
Updated: 2006-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rilina/pseuds/rilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isshin at the witching hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Business

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for volume 22. Written for 31_days' May 20 theme: _I am the right hand of vengeance._

When Isshin rushes from the Kurosaki home to save Kon, he doesn't have time to consider how it feels to be free of his gigai for the first time in twenty years. Like his hotheaded son, he generally acts first and thinks later; Isshin only seems craftier because his instincts are informed by centuries of hard-won experience.

It's only later, when the night is peaceful again, that memory assails him, like a tantou in the back from a long-trusted adjutant. Kon has run home, promising never to tell anything to anyone, and the clack of Urahara's sandals on the pavement is growing fainter with every step. Only Isshin is still standing in the middle of the deserted street, and his hand is clutching the hilt of his sheathed zanpakutou because he can't bear to relinquish it again after all this time.

He remembers so much, so quickly. The dancing flight of the hell moths, the quality of light in the Seireitei, the booming tones of Yamamoto's voice. How it feels to stand on the air, to summon power with a name, to command the loyalty of many souls. All the experiences of two decades in the living world suddenly seem pale and flimsy in comparison. And as he stands transfixed by his past, his zanpakutou shouts at his soul. _Twenty years, Isshin. Twenty wasted years!_

The moon rises high above Karakura-town before his grip on his zanpakutou loosens, finger by finger. His zanpakutou rages, pleads, and, last of all, falls silent in defeat. Isshin has renounced these things before; he can do it again, if reluctantly. One day, he thinks, death just might give them all back.

* * *

He resists the lure of shunpo and finds a roundabout route home, one that takes him past apartment complexes and public parks and deserted shopping malls. From time to time the wind brings him the scent of raw spiritual power. Ichigo's friends, Isshin assumes, wondering which ones belong to the children he's met.

He avoids the river.

He decides, while walking, that the old adage lies; vengeance served cold tastes wrong, like leftovers that have absorbed the flavors of everything else in the refrigerator. So he's finally made some amends for being stuck in the clinic that afternoon six years earlier. What of it? Masaki's still gone, and their children are still damaged.

Dawn is still hours away when Isshin's feet at last carry him home. The house stands dark and silent, just another shadow against the night sky. Isshin reaches out with his senses and finds that Ichigo has returned; the brat's dreams are troubled, but at least they render him insensible to the shinigami reiatsu coming up the stairs. Though it's debatable if the terminally obtuse Ichigo would notice the approaching power even if he were awake.

Isshin stands for a long while before his daughters' bedroom door, listening to the steady breathing of their sleep, before he turns his steps toward the room where his gigai waits.


End file.
